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DEATH OF REV. SAMUEL DANA, 



1. 1. H IN III! 



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AUGUST 21, 1864. 



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B OSTON: 

PRESS <>l GEO. C. RAND (k w M^ . • I ORNHILL. 

L86 4. 






5c:ttb tin Appointment of (Sob. 



SERMON, 



<>< < A3IOXED BY I III. 



DEATII OF REV. SAMUEL DANA, 



DELIVKIIKU IN Till 



fwsi Congregational Cjpuxjf, Parbltbtair, 



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AUGUST 21, 1864 





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BOS T ON: ^ * 



PBESS OF GEO. C. BAND h AVERY, CORNHILL. 
L86 4. 



SERMON 



"I know that thou wilt bring me to death, and to the house appointed for 
all living." — Job xxx. 23. 

Sucb was the outpouring of a pious heart to God 
in the hour of deep affliction. The finger of God had 
touched the good man. and his soul was filled with grief. 
His bright prospects had been destroyed and a dark 
cloud, through which the eye of sense could not pierce, 
shut out the light of heaven; — nor sun nor moon nor 
star relieved the gloom that reigned around him. In 
the grave at his feet lay buried all his earthly hopes, 
and to the same "bouse appointed for all living" lie 
fell himself to he rapidly hastening. There was no 
source of light or hope or consolation hut in the God 

who had afflicted him. To Him. as his covenant God, 

the good man. in the confidence of faith. lied from 
the storm. — iu his paternal hosom he found the rest 

that his Boul needed. The text is the language of 
pious resignation, unwavering trust, cheerful hope, 
abundant satisfaction. The saint, in his deep and 
various afflictions, was not the subject of blind, unin- 
telligent chance, but <>f the dignified government of the 
wise and holy God who rules the worlds; who appoints 



all, controls all, disposes of all, according to his own 
sovereign pleasure. 

And God was not dealing with him in anger, but in 
love ; not as a stern judge, but as a kind father; he 
would bring him to death, but he would not leave him 
to struggle alone ; he would lay him in the grave, but 
he would not lose him there ; his redeemed spirit death 
could not touch, and his body would be restored a 
glorious form ; both soul and body would be fully 
redeemed, and dwell with God forever. The good 
man, therefore, cast himself into the arms of his God 
and was at rest ; and here is the resting-place of all 
faithful souls ; there is rest nowhere else. Out of God 
darkness, despair, and misery reign. 

The text contains two propositions, which we will 
consider in their order. It teaches, — 

I. That death is the appointment of God. That is, it 
is the certain, unchanging purpose of God that man 
should die. Death is not an occasional, but a universal 
event ; it is predetermined in the plan of divine Provi- 
dence, — is the fixed ordination of heaven. In con- 
formity with this, no provision is made in nature by 
which any one can avoid the change. Frequently 
when a friend is taken away by death, we see an 
example of the inefficacy of all created expedients 
to preserve life. None of the productions of the 
fields could afford nourishment; and the power of 
medicine, aided by the most discerning and applying 
skill and sympathetic kindness, could not heal ; — the 
appointment of God was carried, without interruption, 



into full execution. But this is the doom of man as a 
fallen being, and all things are arranged in nature and 
Providence in strict accordance with it. Death is the 
sentence which God has pronounced upon man be- 
cause of his Bin. Had not man sinned he would never 
have died. But "as by one man sin entered into the 
world, and death by sin ; and so death passed upon all 
men, for that all have sinned." Rom. v. 12. On sin. then. 
as a foundation, death erected his awful throne, and. as 
far as this exists, his dominion extends ; it is wide as 
the earth and the sea. and embraces all men in all the 
3, from Adam to the coming of the Son of Man. 
- In Adam all die'" Every human being comes into 
the world under the condemnation ^^ that dread sen- 
tence, "Dust thou art. and unto dust shalt thou return." 
This is the tenure by which every son of Adam holds 
his earthly existence, and this the penalty, in the exe- 
cution of which he descends to the tomb. God is not 
more certainly and intimately connected with any 
event of human life than it- close. u In him we live, 
and move, and have our being." In his band is the 
soul of every living thing and the breath of all man- 
kind. "Thou turnest man to destruction ami >a; 
Beturn, ye children of men." Death is God's tnessen- 
. tie- faithful executioner of his will. Hence we 
irve, that in all the arrangements of Providence be 
challenges the most absolute control over human life. 
In the y<t\ constitution of our animal frame he has 
implanted tie- seeds of decay and <!' ( the 

means and instruments of life and death an- in hi- 



6 

hands. The sources of exposure and accident, and the 
causes of disease, however remote or proximate their 
influence, are all under his direction. He presides over 
the heavens and governs the earth. He directs the 
clouds and commands the sun and the rain. He 
changes the seasons, and enriches and impoverishes 
the earth. He bounds the ocean and balances the 
atmosphere. He decides and governs all the laws of 
the animal economy. The heart, which expands and 
contracts every second of time, and that without any 
effort or choice of our own, and on whose unconscious 
motions human life constantly depends, God can de- 
range and throw into disorder by the slightest varia- 
tion in the physical world. He has determined man's 
days on the earth, numbered his months, and un- 
alterably fixed the bounds of his being. No precaution 
nor prudence can pass the limits prescribed by him. 
Health cannot do it ; riches cannot do it ; honors can- 
not do it ; learning, and talent, and usefulness cannot 
do it ; neither piety nor impiety, strength nor weak- 
ness, hope nor fear, can stay the arm of the destroyer 
or lock the gates of the tomb. Nothing can arrest the 
fatal stroke. Tears may flow warm and copious from 
the fervor of mental anguish, but they flow in vain ; 
the arm of love may interpose, but it cannot ward off 
the blow ; it must fall, for God hath commanded it. 
In his dread march through the world, death has no 
respect of persons, relations, or ages. The poor and 
the friendless are made to bow at his approach ; the 
great, the wise, and the good are brought clown to the 



grave by his hand. In a word, death reigns over all 
classes, all characters, all men. lie invades all nations, 
and spreads his devastations over every part of the 
world, and through every period of time. Tims God, 
unseen, everywhere present, is everywhere deciding 
the destinies of men. from the infant that passes to the 
slumbers of death from its mother's bosom, to the youth 
whose vigorous frame and buoyant hopes wither in 
their bloom ; from the man in the mid-day of human 
life whose sun goes down at noontide, to the hoary 
head where the almond-tree flourishes, and decaying 
nature sighs for the repose of the tomb. Man can no 
more protract his existence a breath beyond God's 
unchanging purpose, than he can add a cubit to his 
ire. Thus are we and all men in the hands of God, 
and subject to his sovereign will. lie removes us when 
and how hf sees lit. 

To the wicked, this is a dread thought; to the child 
of faith, it is a rich consolation. The wicked is sur- 
prised by death, as by the toilfl and artifice of an 
ny : the Christian is calm and quiet. All his plans 
are formed and digested with a view to dying: his faith 
is maturing for the closing hour. The one complains 
ami contends with God, because he sees he must die: 
the other submits to the sentence quietly, yields his 
will to hi- Father's will, commits his soul t<> his Father's 
hands. If' not only goes willingly, but of choice, and 
often <! ' depart He tic- grave ;i- the 

made sacred by ha\ i itained the 

body of his Lord ; and from the top of Pisgah he look- 



across to the heavenly land, the home of his spirit, 
where there is nothing to obscure his prospect or 
limit his joys, — where all is light, felicity, and immor- 
tal glory in the presence of God and the Lamb ; for 
the Lord God is the light of that City, and the Lamb 
its glory. 

Yes, death is the appointment of God. This we 
need not elaborately argue; for statement, not argu- 
ment, is our purpose in this discourse. We are now 
prepared to consider, — 

II. The spirit with which the Christian meets this 
divine appointment. 

The Christian comes to his dying bed with a spirit 
of entire submission. The children of faith, in the vigor- 
ous exercise of grace, have always held themselves 
ready to die whenever God shall call them. They 
feel no more at liberty to rebel against the appoint- 
ment which extends itself to the struggles of the death- 
hour, and consigns their bodies to the grave, than to 
oppose any other appointment of God. They have 
learned, in the school of Christ, to yield their will in all 
things with unquestioning submission to the will of 
their heavenly Father. Death, in itself, is a terrible 
evil. We cling to life most fondly ; many a pang is 
endured before the strong bond is sundered. There is 
something fearfully dismaying in the thought of disso- 
lution and the loathsomeness of the grave. The pains 
and groans and dying strife, alarm and fill us with ter- 
ror. It is hard to die. Great and formidable difficul- 
ties are to be encountered. We cannot bear to think 



of leaving all behind us. We cannot bear to look for 
the last time upon the light of heaven, and upon this 
beautiful earth, and lie down in the grave. It costs us 
many a Btruggle to bid adieu to to all our comforts, and 
draw our heart- away from all that is tender and en- 
deared, and take the lasi look and speak the last fare- 
well. 13 lit this God has appointed; and to all this, 
without a murmur, the Christian hows. There is not a 
more interesting spectacle than to see a good man 
intelligently ami submissively bowing to the stroke of 
death a- the appointment of Clod, saying, with the 
sufferer of Gethsemane, as the cup is put into his 
hand-. "Not my will, but thine be done." But more 
than submission is here; there is cheerful and joyful 
acquiescence. 

The God in whose hands and at whose; disposal the 
Christian is, now appoints all his times, controls all 
his affairs, and who will bring him to death, is more 
than his Sovereign Ruler; he is his loving Father, hie 
covenant God. He is in communion with him. has had 
long experience of his love, perfect confidence in his 
wisdom, and is assured thai he does all things well, — 

all thing- best for him. It is his only eomlbrt that, 
both in lite and in death, he is iu his hands; that as in 
life BO also in death, tin- tine-, the manner, the preced- 
ing and surrounding circumstances, are all arranged, 
appointed, fixed, beyond disturbance or recall, by his 
God. lie rejoices to leave all with him. lie would 

change nothing if lie could. He would nut a — nine the 

responsibility of deciding the time or manner of his 



10 

death. The event is too momentous, and, with the 
confiding love of a true child, he casts it all upon his 
Father-Sovereign, assured that he can never be mis- 
taken, — can never do wrong. He is satisfied that he 
is immortal here until his mission is accomplished, his 
course is finished, his work done ; he is assured that 
God would not suffer him to die now were it not best 
that he should depart. When the time comes, there- 
fore, he joyfully accepts the appointment of covenant, 
infinite love, and lies down upon his bed. Christians 
sometimes, as they approach the death-hour, are afflicted 
with the thought that they are about to be called away 
from some important sphere of usefulness. How many 
a pious father has wept, on his dying bed, because his 
paternal counsels were about to be withdrawn from a 
thoughtless son ! How many a Christian mother has 
sunk in agony, on her pillow, at the thought that her 
helpless babe, or lovely group of little ones, were about 
to be abandoned to the cold charities of this heartless 
world ! And how many a faithful pastor, as he felt the 
tide of life ebbing away, has been distressed at the 
prospects of his bereaved people ! To leave the world, 
at such a time, often appears a dark and mysterious dis- 
pensation. But though faith in the covenant God may, 
amid such scenes, stagger for a little, like the trembling 
needle in a storm, yet it is only for a little; as the 
magnetic pole soon adjusts the delicate point, so one 
glance of faith at its object, the ever-gracious, all-wise 
and glorious God, reassures the soul, dissipates all the 
darkness, and sheds the light of surpassing glory, 



11 



down from the radiant throne, on all the 
ne. 

The Christian accepts this appointment in the exer- 
of an assured faith in God, as his R I The 

hour of death is the hour of trial — of trial between 
the soul and her confidences. Then all earthly he! 
fail, and the soul is left alone with her God. The dying 
man i< going into a vast eternity. lie is to exist for- 

>nd the present hour there is an imra 
urable immortality: but what is to he the character of 
the eternity into which death i< the pathway V What 
new scenes are to open upon the astonished vision of 
the passing spirit^ as she takes her flight? Is the grave 
the dismal | _l» which she is to reach the 

mi- of darkness and despair, or the bright and 
luminous way to the realms of purity and peace and 
verlasting? These inquiries vibrate on the 
heart of the dying man. They must !>e answered with 
itiveness and certainty. Guesses and conjectures 
will not satisfy; the soul must have knowledge, as 
pything is at stake for eternity. She must have 
i lasting life, or the death-hour will 
ime tic scene of terror ami alarm, insupportable. 
But in this hour, which appals the heart, the 

Christian is calm and peaceful. The living God is his 
refuge, and underneath his head are the everlast 
arms. If- feels his weakness and his sinfulness; but 
when overwhelmed with guill and i 
ist himself, all helpless in hi- pon the 

isne.sH of < 'hrist hi r, w horn God had . 



12 

in infinite and eternal love, provided for him and 
given to him; to whom he had united him, and in 
whom he had given him the everlasting life. That 
precious Eedeemer is present with his dying child. 
His smile of recognition, of approval, of love, irradiates 
the dying chamber with the glory of the heavenly 
world ; and his voice so often heard, now more precious 
than ever, saying : "Fear thou not, for I am with thee ; 
be not dismayed, for I am thy God ; I will strengthen 
thee ; yea, I will keep thee ; yea, I will uphold thee 
with the right hand of my righteousness;" fills the 
soul of the struggling child with peace, which passeth 
understanding, and joy which is unspeakable and full of 
glory. His confidence in his Eedeemer is reassured ; 
and he triumphs over every doubt, over every fear, 
over every foe, — even the last, — and leaning upon 
the breast of his Beloved, goes quietly to sleep. Be- 
cause his Redeemer sits on the throne, he can go forth 
into eternity with the confidence of perfect safety, rely- 
ing upon his love, his grace, and his power. 

Many an aged saint, at his closing hour, has commit- 
ted his soul to his Redeemer with the feelings of 
Charles Wesley, when, as his spirit was just on the 
wing, he dictated to his wife these beautiful lines : — 

" In age and feebleness extreme, 
Who shall a sinful worm redeem ? 
Jesus my only hope, thou art ; 
Strength of my failing flesh and heart ; 
Oh, could I catch a smile from thee, 
And, drop into eternity!" 



13 



Finally, the believer accepts this appointment of his 
(rod, because it is the chosen way to the higher bless- 
ings of the everlasting life. — in which the Savior will 
be glorified. Having glorified him in his life, he would 
glorify him in his death. He has magnified God's 
grace in manifold temptations and afflictions in the 
world, he would now show forth his faithfulness and 
love in taking leave of it. 

lie has Kved unto the Lord, he would now die unto 
the Lord, to show that whether living or dying, he is 
the Lord's, — is Christ's; that the eternal love and 
grace of ('iiri-t should he magnified, whether it he by 
his life, or by his death. And. through this gateway, 
the Christian passes to his reward and his crown, — the 
animation of his redemption by Jesus Christ his 
Lord. His spirit goes forth to the bosom of the Father 
ami the Bociety of the blessed ; his body consigned to 
tin' tomb, to bo restored a glorious form like that of bis 
Lord's on his throne of light. Then the victory will 

bo complete, oul, body, and spirit, all redeemed and 

made holy and blessed forever. •* When this corruptible 

shall have put on incorruption, and this mortal shall 

have pm on immortality, then shall be brought to pass 
thee that is written, a Death is Bwallowed up in 

victory." Thou will all that was lost in the first Adam 
be more than restored in t I >nd Adam, and the 

glory of God, through the redeemed church, be more 
fully and illustriously manifested and magnified than in 
the perfection of Eden, or in angelic and seraphic 
anthems. 



14 

And death is the way appointed of God, by which 
that result is to be reached, — that ineffable felicity to 
be attained. The Christian accepts it for this end, re- 
joicing in his God. Here he ends his pilgrimage of 
labors and sorrows. He lays aside his pilgrim staff for 
the crown of the conqueror, exchanges his pilgrim 
weeds for robes of immortal glory and beauty. Pre- 
cious in the sight of the Lord is the death of his 
saints. Precious also in our sight, Christian brethren, 
as this is the end of their sorrow and the beginning of 
perfect joy. This is the salvation purchased by Jesus, 
and to be realized in heaven by all the redeemed ; — 
perfect life for the moral being, perfect life for the rea- 
son, perfect life for the body. It is then a matter of 
congratulation when a saint of God has passed through 
death to the perfect life beyond. We may weep for 
ourselves, but not for him. We may even give him 
joy as he lies upon his death-bed. That, to him is the 
Pisgah-top of promise, where he catches, through the 
mists that hang over the stream of death, glorious rev- 
elations of Beulah, the beautiful land, and of the Jeru- 
salem, in the midst of it, where is his " inheritance in- 
corruptible and undefiled and that fadeth not away." 
There, Jesus his pre-runner has for him entered, and 
thither the light streaming down through the rent veil, 
upon the face of his redeemed child, in the last strug- 
gle, will guide him home. There, on that mount of 
glorious vision, the dying Christian stands in all the 
transports of faith and holy desire. The divine pres- 
ence fills his soul, and he longs to depart and be with 



Christ. He cannot understand why loved friends would 
hold him hack from his home. From that Pisgah-top 
he sees the heavenly land. Its delectable vales and 
mountains, its fields of smiling beauty, its fertile plains. 
its trees of life and heavenly fragrance rise up to his 
admiring view, and he pants to be there. The music 
of heaven charms him, the breezes of heaven fan his 
spirit, and kindred ones loved here, and loved the more 
fondly now they are gathered home, beckon him 
away. A- from this mount of vision he talks of heaven. 
his language is: -1 %\ il 1 behold thy face in righteous- 
ness; 1 shall l>e satisfied when I awake in thy like- 
ness." 

There he Bees the "great multitude of the redeemed, 
which no man can number, out of all nations and kin- 
dreds, and people and tongues, standing before the throne 
of God and before the Lamh. clothed in white robes and 
palms in their hands, and crying with a loud voice, say- 
in--: Salvation and -lory to our God that sitteth on 
tic throne and unto the Lamb!" Toward that holy 
throng, he -ends forth his soul in ecstasies of joy. 
There he sees Patriarchs and Prophets, Apostles and 
Martyrs. There, it may be, as in the case of our ven- 
ile father iii God, ho pees a long lino of pious ances- 

. with the wife of his bosom, and the children of his 

love, beckoning him home. And there, too, hundreds 
whom he had led to Jesus and helped home to glory, 
smiling their welcome. And above all. there he 
on the throne one clothed in a body like hi- own. 
though glorified and beautiful beyond compare, — his 



16 

own Kedeemer, — around whom the redeemed assem- 
bly stand with familiar, yet adoring love and praise. 
And there on that mount of vision he can die, or 
rather go quietly to sleep. 

He has nothing to lose. He has everything to gain. 
To be translated into the immediate and beatific pres- 
ence of Christ, his kinsman and glorified redeemer ; to 
be holy as he is holy, to be happy as he is happy ; to 
sit down with him on his throne, and share with him 
the glories of his kingdom and his priesthood ; in a 
word, to be with Jesus, and to be like him in purity and 
felicity and glory — forever; such are the bright pros- 
pects disclosed to the dying Christian, by infinite love, 
which confirm his faith and dissipate the gloom of the 
grave ; and, gazing on which, he waves his last adieu 
to earth, and, reposing on his Savior's bosom, enters into 
his rest. 

Such is the believer, as he falls asleep in Jesus. To 
him death is a blessing. He comes as a messenger to 
bear him to the arms of his Father, in his sweet home 
above. It is as the angel to Peter, breaking the dun- 
geon-doors and leading him to open day. Dying is, to 
him, leaving the world of his exile and going to the 
one of his birthright; it is the soldier at nightfall, lying 
clown in his tent in peace after the battle, waiting the 
morning to receive his laurels. It is the child going 
home. 

At this moment he is standing on the threshold of his 
Father's house, at the next he enters the door and re- 
ceives the paternal welcome ; u Son, thou art ever with 






17 

me'* 2V . stands at tin* gate of heaven in sight of 
the throne, the next moment he is bending with adoring 
rapture with the church triumphant, — bathing in fl< 
of infinite glory ; being like Christ, because seeing 
him as he is, — forever and ever. 

It was thus that Moses died. It was thus that David 
died, exclaiming >d hath made with me an ever- 

lasting covenant ordered in all things and sure." Thus 
Simeon died, saying: u Lord, now lettest thou thy ser- 
vant depart in peace, according to thy word: for mine 
eye- have -cell thy salvation. " Thus Stephen fell 
asleep, saying: "Lord Jesus, receive my spirit" 
Paul also died thus, shouting as he stepped into the 
river: ■• 1 am now ready to be offered, and the time of 
my departure is at hand. I have fought a good fight, 
I have finished my course. I have kept the faith: 
henceforth there is laid up forme a crown of righteous- 
ness, which the Lord, the righteous Judge, will give me 
in that day." And thus fell asleep thai venerable man 
of God, tlie able minister of this sanctuary, the faithful 
pastor of this flock, the valiant soldier of the cross, for 
long in the midst of y<>u and your fathers, whose 

mortal remains we committed to the tomb, in the as- 
sured faith of a glorious resurrection, when Christ -hall 
come to claim them as the purchase of hi- blood. He 
has been called up to .-i higher station, t«» immortal ser- 
vices, to a rich reward of grace. He has gone from us 
t<> meet Hubbard and Whitwell and Barnard and 
Cheever, hi- only predecessors in the pastoral office in 



18 

this church, and with them to rejoice before the throne 
of God and the Lamb. 

Let us congratulate him on the translation. He has 
reached his home at last ; let us thank God. 

" Servant of God, well done ! 
Rest from thy loved employ ; 
The battle fought, the victory won, 
Enter thy Master's joy. 

"The pains of death are past, 
Labor and sorrow cease ; 
And life's long warfare closed at last, 
His soul is found in peace. 

" Soldier of Christ, well done ! 
Praise be thy new employ, 
And while eternal ages run, 
Rest in thy Saviour's joy." 

Christian fidelity and affection, together with the 
glory of God our Saviour, required that our venerable 
father should not be allowed to pass from the midst of 
us without at least a brief notice of his character and 
labors. I regret that the materials at my disposal, and 
the time in which it must be prepared, are both so 
limited as to render the tribute necessarily imperfect. 

The Reverend Samuel Dana was descended from a 
long line of pious ancestors, who were distinguished for 
their attachment to the doctrines of the Reformation as 
derived from the Word of God and taught by the great 
Calvin. These are the doctrines which make intelligent, 
stable, thorough Christians, inspire them with the prin- 
ciples of true liberty regulated by law, and lead to their 



19 

maintenance against all the usurpations of tyranny 

both in church and State, at every hazard and every 
sacrifice. Such men, fearing God, have no one else to 
fear. He is their strength and their shield, their coun- 
sellor and their guide : hence their triumph is sure. 

Richard Dana, the paternal ancestor of Samuel, was 
horn in France in the early part of the seventeenth 
century, and was one of that noble race of men. the 
Huguenots, who contended so manfully against the 
usurpations and tyranny of the Papal Church, and who 
suffered so severely for their faith, and to whom the 
world i< under meat and lasting obligations. 

He fled to England from the persecuting edict of 
Louis Xin., passed in L629, confiscating all the prop- 
erty of the Protestants and imprisoning their persons : 
and about the year L640 emigrated to America, and 

settled in Cambridge. Mass., where he died April 2, 
1690, at an advanced age. From him the numerous 
family of Dana, in its various branches, sprung, con- 
taining many men of distinction both in the church 
and in the state, including several distinguished minis- 
tor- of the gospel. Mi - . Dana's father was Rev. Joseph 
Dana, I). I)., tic able and devoted pa-tor. for more than 
sixty years, of the Second Church in Ipswich, M 
where he died at tic- age of eighty-five years, — having 
preached the Sabbath previous, — honored ami beloved 
by all his people, and also bj a wide circle of acquaint- 
races and friends, who appreciated him as a scholar, a 

Christian, ami a mini-tor <>!' lie gospel. lb-. D:ina was 

twice married; the second time M.n\ Turner, 



20 



of Boston, a godly and pious woman ; and the subject 
of this notice, their only son, was born May 7, 1778. 
Mr. Dana was entered at Harvard College in 1792, at 
the age of fourteen, and was graduated with distinction 
in 1796, having held a high place in his class, of which 
the late Eev. Dr. Woods, Professor in the Theological 
Seminary at Andover, and the venerable Dr. James 
Jackson, of Boston, the only survivor, were members. 

After teaching in the academy at Ipswich, and some 
other places, and having studied theology with his 
father, Mr. Dana was settled over this church and par- 
ish October 7, 1801, being the fifth pastor of the church, 
which was organized May 24, 1684. He was com- 
pelled by the failure of his health to resign his pas- 
torate, and was dismissed August 27, 1837, after having 
served this people ably and faithfully for a period of 
nearly forty years. This step, which the providence of 
God called him to take, was very painful to Mr. Dana, 
was deeply regretted by his devoted people, who pre- 
sented him with substantial tokens of their regard and 
love, and by the large and able council that severed 
the relation which had so long subsisted, and had been 
productive of results so marked to the praise of God's 
glorious grace in Jesus Christ his Son. 

Since that time — a period of twenty-seven years — 
Mr. Dana has dwelt in refined ease in the bosom of his 
lovely family, cultivating the Christian and social vir- 
tues, doing good as Gocl gave him opportunity, dis- 
tributing bountifully his charities to the poor and the 
suffering ; contributing with equal generosity to the 



21 

maintenance of the institutions of the gospel here, and 
to its spread throughout the world ; enjoying all the 
comforts and blessings possible for a father, a husband, 
and a friend, until, in age and feebleness extreme, he 
gently fell asleep, August 16, 1864, in the eighty- 
ar of his age. 

Mr. Dana was better known and more fully appre- 
ciated by a former generation — o[ which only here 
and there one is seen as a connecting link — than by 
the present. The one saw him in his prime, felt his 
power and knew his worth when he was the able, ac- 
tive, and devoted minister; the other has seen him 
only in his retiracy, his decline, and his infirmities. 
But, to a careful observer, there were remaining, amid 
all his infirmities, the evidences of former distinction, 
which could not he mistaken. 

The person of Mr. Dana was uncommonly agreeable 
and interesting. His manners were engaging and dis- 
tinguished for Christian simplicity and true refinement; 
he Was, in the highest sense of the term, a Christian 
tleman. In this respcci he strongly resembled his 
elder brother, tie' la!.' Rev. Dr. Dana, of No wlnuy port. 

who was one of tie- most accomplished gentlemen, as 
ho was one of ile* most distinguished ministers and 
theologians of the a .. This gracefulness and e 
though natural t<> Mr. Dana, was, undoubtedly, in the 
high degree in which le* i I it, tie- result of influ- 

ences enjo} ed in tie- refined of tie- parson 

at [pswich, and in tjb ml mansion of Abraham 

low, Esq., of Cambridge, where he v. eived as 



22 



a son during his collegiate course, and which was the 
resort of many of the first men of the age. 

Mr. Dana possessed a strong, well balanced, and lucid 
mind, a large share of sound, practical wisdom, or com- 
mon sen^e, and a deeply affectionate and most ingenu- 
ous heart. His memory was retentive, and his recol- 
lection of past events very accurate, even almost to the 
last. In the varied, intercourse of a long life he had 
treasured up a rich store of historical facts, which he 
employed to great advantage in his social intercourse, 
rendering him an acceptable companion to the old and 
the young. He had a remarkable penetration. Having 
studied men as well as books he was an accurate and 
discriminating judge of character. Seldom was he de- 
ceived. His eye, like the spear of Ithuriel, would pierce 
through the garb of the hypocrite, and would detect, 
under the most modest and shrinking form, true worth. 
Mr. Dana possessed great caution and as great firm- 
ness. He was slow in forming his opinions and ma- 
turing his judgments, but when his convictions were 
reached he adhered to them with great tenacity. His 
conduct in any given case, was founded in principle, not 
inspired by impulse, hence he was highly conservative. 
He recognized the existence of fundamental principles 
as the permanent basis of all true progress, and regard- 
eel all professed progress as false and disastrous where 
these were ignored. His morality and his philanthropy 
which were high and broad, sprung out of his religion, 
— nay, were parts of it, the practical fruits of his faith 
in Christ ; and his religion was derived solely from the 



23 

Bible, as the revelation of God, — the only perfect 
rule of faith and practice. Thi- blessed book he re- 
ceived as given to him by divine inspiration, directly 
from God, to command and inspire his faith, to give 
laws to his moral being, to control his action- in all the 
relations of life, and to form his character after the 
image of God as revealed in the incarnation. To the 
authority of this volume from heaven he reverently 
bowed; its prerogative he Bacredly guarded. Any re- 
ligion- opinion or doctrine, any scheme of philanthropy 
or ethics which could show for its warrant the authority 
of the Bible, he embraced with all his heart. While 
all those, which failed to do this, he instantly and with 
all his heart rejected. He was a lover of independent 
thought, but would tolerate no thought on religious and 
moral thing- which was independent of the Bible. lie 
was a bold and, firm defender of true liberty, but he 
had no confidence in that reckless license often mi- 
taken for it. that i< not under law to God. The Word 
of God he regarded as supreme judge, and rebuked the 
profane presumption which would elevate anything hu- 
man to a coordinate rank and authority. 

Mr. Dana possessed a heart tenderly alive to the sor- 
rows of a suffering world, and in deep sympathy with 
misery in all its forms. II«' \\;i- a true, stanch friend ; 
when once he bad taken a person into the confidence 
and affection of hi- heart, be remained linn to the last, 
amid nil the changes which Providence might 1m 

him, and despite nil tic effoi te of malice to de- 
stroy him. lie did not look for angels in men; con- 



24 

scious of his own infirmities, he was charitable towards 
those of others. 

He was a generous man ; whilst holding with great 
firmness the truths which his faith or his intellect had 
received, and defending them with all his power, as a 
duty which he owed to Christ and his fellow-men, he 
was courteous and kind toward those from whom he 
was compelled to differ. Had he been less positive 
and firm in his faith, his generosity, his fine culture, his 
high social character, might have betrayed him into a 
sacrifice or a compromise of the truth ; had he been 
less generous, his positive faith might have degenerated 
into bigotry. But the very nice adjustment of these 
two qualities of mind and heart with which the Creator 
had endowed him, tempered by the grace of God in his 
communings with Jesus Christ his Lord, made Mr. Dana 
what he was, — the bold, uncompromising defender of 
the truth, and the perfect Christian gentleman. 

Mr. Dana was thoroughly educated both in literature 
and theology, and most richly furnished for the im- 
portant mission which God had appointed him. He 
was largely supplied with opportunities and means for 
the prosecution of scholastic pursuits, which he em- 
ployed with that industry which seemed to be a part of 
his nature, and so marked all that he did. 

Though unusually diligent in his official character, 
he devoted much time to the acquisition of literary in- 
formation, and, after his retirement from the pastorate, 
such pursuits employed the most of his time ; so that 
it may with truth be said of him, he was a life-long 



- 



student But while (luring his pastorate, lie gathered 
up the scraps and fragments of time, which he well 
knew how to do, to devote to literature. Theology was 
his study: preaching the gospel to sinners, and feeding, 
instructing, and comforting the children of God, his 
loved hush; 

Mr. Dana's theology was that of the Reformers, of 
Calvin, of St Paul He did not adopt it because his 
fathers did, or because the great Calvin taught it, for 
he was the imitator of no mere man; but because he 
believed it to be taught in the Word of God, which had 
divine authority with him. commanding his faith, con- 
trolling his intellect, his heart, and his life. To that he 
bowed as supreme, all-eufficient, and alone the perfect 
rule of faith. lien- 1: d. with nothing beneath 

him hut the Rock -. and nothing above him but 

the illimitable throne. 

Christ and him crucified, as the great expiator and 

substitute of hi- people in the covenant of God's love, 

them unto (Jod by his blood ; and just i i i < • a - 

tion by faith alone upon his righteousness without the 

works of the law, — which truth Luther declared to he 

the article of a Btanding or a falling eliureh. — lie placed 

centra] <w\\ in !. em of theology, illuminat- 

ing tin- whole with light divine. And while Mi-. Dana 
took no prominent pari in the scholastic speculations 
of New England, he was an old-school divine of the class 
of the elder Edwards, able, faithful, practical, Scriptural ; 
and he exceedingl; tted those departures from the 

the faith of the fathers which have been productive of 



26 



so much mischief to the churches and to pure re- 
ligion. 

At what period Mr. Dane was brought to rest in 
Christ, as his Redeemer, by a living faith, we are not 
able to say ; it was, however, in early life. His piety 
Avas sweet and humble. He seldom spoke of his own 
spiritual relations or attainments, and when he did, it 
was with the most unaffected modesty. His faith was 
clear, simple, strong, and practical ; his hope was bright 
and cheerful, and was cast, as the anchor of his soul, 
sure and steadfast, into the cleft of the Rock made to 
receive it, at the foot of the eternal throne ; and his 
love was warm and true, first to God his Saviour, and 
then to all who bore the image of that Saviour wherever 
they were found. 

Such, Christian brethren, was the man who, on the 
seventh day of October, 1801, was ordained the fifth 
pastor of this ancient church ; and it must be evident, 
from the glance we have taken of his character and 
opinions, in connection with the times and the recorded 
results of his labors, that he was just the man. It was 
the beginning of the present century, a period pregnant 
with the mighty results which, in the course of more 
than sixty years, have been reached. In the early part 
of his ministry those great missionary enterprises, both 
foreign and domestic, which have been such rich bless- 
ings to the church and the world, took their rise. In 
their formation Mr. Dana bore an honored part ; in 
their prosecution his heart and purse were fully enlisted, 
and he lived to rejoice, before God, over the glorious 



results, — a wonderful harvest to the praise of Clod's 

grace, in Christ hia Sun. 

But there were other scenes in which the young 
3 called to participate, which were of the 
deepest interest to true religion, and to this church in 
particular. At the time of Mr. Dana's settlement here, 
a cold, lifeless Arminianism, with here and there an 
honorable exception, pervaded the ministry and the 
churches of this Commonwealth. This prepared the 
way for that sad and vital departure, through philo- 
sophical speculation, from the faith of the apostles 
which took place a few year after. That was a time 
which tried the faith and the souls of men. It was a 
time of discrimination and decision. A time requiring 
it boldness and consummate wisdom and prudence 
on the part of those who were Bel lor the defence of 
the gospel, if they would maintain the truth as it is in 
ad save the churches that the Great Shepherd 
had committed to their care. Numbers and power 
were against them; truth and God were on their side. 
We have -aid thai it was n time which tried the faith 
and the souls of men. Many a minister was swept 
from his moorings by the storm, and dragged his 

church with him far out to Bea, withoul COmpaSS Or 

chart, where indium could be reached, and wh< 

to this day. they are drifting farther and further fr< 

and truth toward the horrid gulf of utter scepti- 
cism and ruin. I Jut here, amid that ! I >;ina. 
the mild, hut firm man; the accomplished scholar; the 
Bound, discriminating I tin; the plain, clear, forci- 



28 



ble preacher of the true gospel; the Christian pastor, 
true to the trust committed to him, confirming his own 
people in the faith, and bearing aloft the standard of 
the Cross that others, too, might find a safe refuge from 
the storm, and he, by the grace of God and in the 
strength of his master, succeeded. The church was 
saved to the truth, and many fled to her bosom to be 
fed with the bread of life, which they felt was denied 
them elsewhere. May this church ever stand a pillar 
and ground of the truth, a refuge for Christ's little 
ones to which they may flee from every storm, and find 
the repose and the refreshment which their hearts 
crave. But had Mr. Dana wavered, — and he would had 
he been less firm, — had he a less clear and positive 
faith ; had he not possessed the spirit of the old Hugue- 
not as well as his system of religious belief; had he not 
been rooted and grounded in the truth as it is in Jesus ; 
had he wavered., all would have been lost; had he de- 
nied the Lord that bought him, and departed from the 
faith, this church would, with him, have been swept 
into the gulf of error and scepticism which swallowed 
up so many churches that once stood as strong as she. 
In estimating the obligations she is under to that noble 
man, the church must take this into the account. It is 
our firm conviction that this church stands to-day, by 
the grace of God, upon the same foundation of truth, 
the faith once delivered to the saints, on which it was 
founded by Cheever, and the other pious fathers, in 
1684, because the beloved Dana was its pastor during 
the stormy period we have referred to. For this, were 



29 

there no other reason, the memory of the faithful man 
should be embalmed in all our hearts, and he be held 
in ever grateful remembrance. Listen to him as he 
spake to your fathers on the seventh of January, 1S1G, 
in a sermon of great historic value which was pub- 
lished. After reading the Confession of Faith and 
Covenant of the Church, he said: "We should never 
lose sight of the foundation on which our beloved church 
is established, or of the puritanical exemplary faith and 
piety of its founder-. It is assuredly a distinguished 
honor and privilege to be the descendants and SUCCes- 
- of such a noble race of men. The principles on 
which they provided for the public worship and ordi- 
nances of God were derived immediately from the 
lively oracles of the Most Sigh, and are of perpetual. 

everlasting importance. The divinity of the Reforma- 
tion was the divinity they embraced, in which they 
lived and died, and which, thanks to their faithful care. 
- on which we now professedly rest. It is 
called .Calvinism, but Injuriously. It has been the di- 
vinity of tic church in all ages. It is the divinity of 
Saint Paul, and of Saint Paul's Blaster, who met him in 
tic- way to Damascus. It includes the doctrines of 
grace according to godliness; the doctrine- which make 
genuine, stable, thorough Christians, and prepare sin- 
ners for glory. They are tic root of the godly tree 
of holy living. May our tongue cleave to the roof of 
our mouth, and our right-hand forget it- cunning, ere 
we abandon the faith of our pious fathers. Tie- holy 
faitb once delivered to ihe saints, which rendered them 



30 

so eminently pure and upright, and in proportion as the 
like precious faith has been and should be extended, 
undefiled religion and true morality have been re- 
ceived and shall ever flourish." Thus spake the pastor 
to his flock the words of truth and soberness. 

Mr. Dana was not a controversialist ; he brought 
nothing of the dialectics of the schools into the discus- 
sions of the pulpit. It was by the preaching of the 
truth as it is in Jesus Christ and him crucified, plainly 
and faithfully, that he saved his people from the in- 
roads of error, and built them up solidly in the truth. 
He was an elegant writer, and his sermons were rich, 
varied in matter, impressive, solemn, and forcible. 

A very intelligent gentleman, with whose father Mr. 
Dana used to exchange, has said, since he passed away, 
that the people, and especially the young, were always 
glad when he preached, his sermons were so beautiful. 
One of his printed sermons, or a pamphlet, which he had 
published on some important topic, fell into the hands 
of the late Chief Justice Parsons, who pronounced it one 
of the most elegant compositions he had ever read. 
And while his voice was feeble, and of small compass, 
the testimony to the richness of his sermons, in matter 
and composition, was universal, so that he was always 
listened to with attention and profit. 

As a pastor, Mr. Dana was kind, courteous, and faith- 
ful. In the house of mourning and in the chamber of 
sickness he was a son of consolation. He entered 
deeply into all the sorrows of his people, and, like his 
Master, sought to assuage their griefs and wipe away 



31 

their tears. He was very fond of children, treated 
them with special attention and great affection, and 
had their confidence and love in a remarkable degree. 
The dally the aged poor, received a full share 

of his pious labors, and welcomed him to their dwellings 
as a ministering angel to their infirmities. In a word, 
he was devotedly attached to his people, felt himself 
identified with them, and was respected and beloved by 
them. A single circumstance, which occurred during 
the lasl war with Greal Britain, will illustrate this mu- 
tual affection. Marblehead was. perhaps, more deeply 
affected by that war than any other town in the State. 
Her commerce was destroyed, and all her material in- 
sta prostrated; five hundred of her sons taken on the 
u tin* first year of the war were kept in prison till 
the close, while their wives and children and aged par 
cut- were in want and distress, — many of the wealthy 
citizens had lied into the interior for safety, leaving the 
pom- behind. The ever-faithful and kind-hearted pastor 
remained to watch over his flock, and to share their sor- 
row-. They could not pay him his salary, and his heart 
would not allow him to leave them. In the la-t year 
of tin- war he relinquished his entire salary, though pcr- 
forming all his ministerial duties, and became the pre- 
ceptor of Marblehead Academy in order t<> maintain his 
family. This double duty, in his judgment and that of 

hi- friends, laid tie- foundation for that feeble health 

which ultimately led to hi- resignation; ye1 he uever 

ourse he pursued. At the close <>f the 

war In- resigned his connection with the academy; but 



32 

such was his success as a teacher that the trustees im- 
portuned him to resign his pastorate and devote himself 
to the academy, offering him $1000 per year, nearly 
double the amount of his salary as a minister. But he 
loved his people, though poor, and would not leave 
them, and the people on their part, grateful for his 
adherence to them under such trying circumstances, 
the year after the war, paid him the year's salary that 
he had relinquished from love to them and interest in 
their welfare. 

Mr. Dana was a very grateful man. He had received 
great kindnesses from his many warm friends, most of 
whom went before their pastor to their rest, though a 
few still linger here. Their kindnesses he remembered 
to the last, and left recorded a touching testimonial of 
what he terms, " The noble-hearted kindness of my 
hosts of friends to myself and to my family;" appended 
to this is a long list of names, and they found in him a 
warm and true friend, and he is cherished by- their 
descendants in kind and grateful remembrance. 

In his intercourse with the world Mr. Dana's judg- 
ment was excellent, and his discernment, in all the lesser 
proprieties of society, peculiarly correct. In the domes- 
tic and social relations, and in all the virtues that be- 
longed to private friendship, he disarmed suspicion and 
commanded confidence and affection. That he had his 
infirmities, is a matter of course, otherwise he were not 
a man. That he was a sinner is taken for granted, oth- 
erwise he is not in heaven ; for sinners, only, are saved 
by Christ. 



Mr. Dana was a very successful minister; the most 
»f any of the pastors of this church, — few ministers 
have, indeed, been more so in the land. He was won- 
derfully blest of God in several Beasona of gracious out- 
pouring, which added great numbers to the communion 
of the church. He found the church at his settlement 
in 1801, with less than anhundn I members; he admitted 
during his ministry four hundred and nineft/, and left it at 
his dismission, in 1837, with three hundred and seven 
Thus did God bless the labors of his faithful servanl 
mosl abundantly. He preached during his ministry 
here more than four thousand sermons : baptized five hun- 
dred and tivelvi children and adults: united in marriage 
■ hundred "ml ninety-two persons ; and buried fif 
Ired and seventy-seven. Such is the record of our be- 
■ 1 father during his pastorate in this church. Well 
might the council, called to dismiss him, so •■ deeply 
regrel tie- necessity which demanded the separation of 
^[u-\i a pastor from his people." Ami thai council was 
composed of men who knew whereof they affirmed. 
The venerable \U\ Emerson of Salem, the life-long 
friend of Mr. Dana, who survives him and was hen- t<> 
attend him to his resl in the tomb, being the modera- 
tor, and the lamented Dr. Cooke, of Lynn, the scribe. 

Here is tie- testimony of that council. " The council 

rejoice with Rev. Mi-. Dana in the pleasing retrospect, 
which he is enabled to take, of a mini-try that has 
ived &o many tokens <>f Divine favor, and which baa 
tended so much t<> the spiritual good of those arao 
whom he has labored Th • i if 



34 

harmony which has prevailed between him and his peo- 
ple during so long a period, a portion of which has been 
marked with such vicissitudes and fluctuations of feel- 
ing in regard to the ministerial relation, and the ex- 
pressions of respect and attachment which he has 
received from the church and society, must not only be 
peculiarly consoling to his heart, afflicted as it is with 
the sorrows of separation, but bear decided testimony to 
his uncommon qualifications as a minister of the gospel, 
and to the fidelity, tenderness, and discretion with 
which he has discharged the duties of his office. 

" The council cordially recommend Mr. Dana to the 
churches, as enjoying, in a high degree, their confidence 
as an able and faithful minister of Christ." 

Mr. Dana was a very generous man in his contribu- 
tions to the various objects of Christian benevolence 
and charity. He well knew the worth of money, and 
carefully husbanded his resources ; but he regarded 
himself as the Lord's steward, and was ever ready, when 
the call came, to disburse with a liberal hand what had 
been entrusted to him. He gave largely, freely, judi- 
ciously. The great missionary, educational, and Bible 
enterprises of the church, which he had helped to origi- 
nate, he fostered with peculiar fondness and care ; and 
the calls of the sick and suffering poor met his ready 
response, and many a child of sorrow and of want, 
remembers to-day his kindness, and weeps for his loss. 

As a parishioner, Mr. Dana was a model of wisdom, 
kindness, prudence, and generosity. He was always 
careful of the reputation of his pastor and very chari- 



table towards his infirmities. He was ever ready to 
counsel him in difficulties, and sympathize with him in 

trials : he held up his hands always. 

This is the testimony of my predecessors, and it is 

emphatically my own. Having had the most intimate 
relation- with him for the past ten years. 1 have receiv- 
ed from him the same uniform kindness. When 1 came 
here a stranger he received me with the warm embraces 
of paternal love, and he remained the same true, affec- 
tionate lather, all through to the end. I enjoyed his 
confidence in a remarkable degree, and his approval in 
everything. 1 have gone to him in perplexity for 

nsel, in great and sure trials for sympathy, in dark 

scenes for encouragement, and found him ever the 

same; he lifted up my head, encouraged my heart, 

.cued my hands. — and I stand here to-day to 

»rd my grateful testimony to the worth of the good 
old man. a- a wise COUnseller, a true friend, and an 

tionate father. And though I rejoice that he is 

at home, and thank God that he was translated 

the! ' 1 must he permited to weep at his 

tomb; for no oik/ out of hi- immediate family feels his 

1 it. 'fake him all in all. I shall not look 

upon hi- lik< 

Mr. Dana, to be appreciated must l>" known, and no 

man can be 80 well known as in the bospm of hi- family. 

Here bis i xcellences and hi- foibles both flow out with- 
out restraint Mr. Dana's domestic character was of a 
high order. Bis affection and reverence for his 
parents, and his love for hi- brothers and re- 



36 

sembled in depth and fulness that of the great Webster, 
more than that of any other man I know of. Dr. Dana, 
the father, like most ministers in New England, had a 
limited salary, and yet like a true Puritan, next to their 
salvation by Jesus Christ, he sought as the first thing 
the thorough education of his children. Hence he often 
found himself in straitened circumstances. His three 
sons were liberally educated, and amply repaid by their 
characters, their positions in life, and their usefulness, all 
which the venerable father lived to see and enjoy, all 
the anxiety and labor attending it. The subject of this 
notice fully appreciated his father's position, and deeply 
sympathized with it. Even after, he entered college, at 
the early age of fourteen he was of no expense to his 
father, — indeed he was of great assistance to him. By 
writing in the office of the Clerk of the Courts for the 
County of Middlesex, and teaching school during the va- 
cations, he met all his expenses in College, and graduated 
with money in his pocket. 

Between the time of his graduation and that of his 
settlement, a period of about five years, Mr. Dana taught 
an academy, thereby accumulating some means to help 
himself and relieve his honored father from a large pe- 
cuniary embarrassment of thirty years' standing. He 
has recorded it as one of the happiest moments of his 
life, when he was enabled thus to lift off the heavy 
burden from the heart of that father whom he so tender- 
ly loved and so profoundly revered. His own language 
is : "I longed to have this burden removed, and it was the 
height of my ambition to be the instrument of removing 



it. Accordingly just before I left ray native place to 
reside there no more, I had the unspeakable felicity, one 
fine afternoon, to ride six miles and to take up the notes 
that constituted the pecuniary burden of my honored 
father's life, which were burned in his presence, and 
before his eyes and those of my blessed mother!" 

Thus were the hearts of his fond parents relieved and 
gladdened by an act of filial piety and love which the 
devoted son was made happy in performing. Such love 
for parents God has promised to bless; and, in this in- 
stance, be has most fully verified the promise in the 
devoted children whom he gave to Bis faithful servant, 
whose happiness it was to love and honor him, and to 
be tii«' staff and comfort of his infirm old aire. 

in his own loved home Mr. Dana was a model of the 
domestic virtues. Be was a mosl affectionate husband. 
a kind, indulgent, and tender father. He governed his 
hoie !v in the fear and love of God, and his chil- 

dren rise up and call him blessed. His was a household 
where the Loid was honored, and his a household thai 
the Lord hath indeed blessed The mutual love be- 
tween parents and children, and grandchildren, too. was 
iliar; it was a love thai can never die,— it bears 
tie- -tamp of immortality. In that loved home Mr. Dana 
was as perfectly happy ae a man could be in this chang- 
ing and fleeting world. But even that must be broken 
up. Ili- perfect rest, bis highest felicity, belonged to 
another world. were to be found alone in heaven. 

Bis amiable, devoted, and lovely wife, whom he mo-! 
tenderly loved, and whom to know was to love, who 



was the partner of his joys, and the partaker of his sor- 
rows for nearly sixty years, was the first to be called 
home, — she preceded him only a few months to his 
heavenly rest. Lovely were they in their lives, and in 
their deaths they were not long divided. After the 
death of his wife Mr. Dana gradually, but perceptibly, 
failed. For although God had surrounded him with the 
best of children, whose warm and devoted love anticipat- 
ed every want and every wish, yet there was a vacant 
chair and a lonely chamber ; the form he loved to see 
no longer moved though the halls, the music of the 
voice he loved to hear no longer charmed him, — he was 
lonely, and longed to go home. Still he was resigned, 
and if he did not compose the following beautiful lines 
at that time, he doubtless read them afresh as expres- 
sive of the deep feelings of his stricken but submissive 
spirit. 

" Oh Lord, my God ! Do thou thy holy will, 
I will be still. 
I will not stir, lest I forsake thine arm, 

And break the charm " 
That lulls me, clinging to my Father's breast, 
In perfect rest." 

But God, his covenant God, who had redeemed him, 
in whose hands his time was, and to whose breast he so 
foundly clung, had pity upon his aged servant, and call- 
ed him up higher, to join the fondly -loved one who was 
waiting to welcome him to his heavenly home. He is 
not, for God took him. Could we ask any thing better 
for him in the time or manner of his departure ? Could 



39 

we wish any thing other than it Is? No, all is as it 
should be. 

How wise and kind is Clod! He causes ever}- thing 
to be beautiful in its time. How marked in the case of 
our venerable father's death! The time, the period of 
weakness and weariness and loneliness, after he had en- 
joyed, through a long life, all of earth there is to enjoy. 
— in his happy home, in the sweet communion of choice 
spirits, with his heart, even at the last, warming with 
fresh life toward those he loved. And the manner. — 
that sleep, how beautiful, how calm, how peaceful; 
deepening and deepening as hour alter hour passed 
away, until earth was absorbed, the river was 'crossed, 
and his pened to drink in the immortal glories of 

heaven ! 

() death! where is thy sting".' O grave! where is 
thy victory V And while we cannot suppress the tear 
that we -hall see the venerable man with his snowy 
locks no longer in our streets, no longer hear his voice 
;ind enjoy his smile of welcome to his happy home, and 

see lii in no more in his seat, — never vacant in this house 
of God, where he loved to worship and was permitted to 
worship tie- las! Sabbath hut one before he died; while 
we cannot suppress the tears that we shall see him no 
more here, we will rejoice thai the pilgrim voyager has 
reached hi- home that the servant of (hid has won the 
victory and baa entered into his rest, that the valiant 
soldier of the cross has received hi- crown and bears 
aloft the palm. There is iu that venerable mansion an- 
other vacancy, and a sadness. But the devoted children, 



40 

while they weep that their life-long counseller, friend, 
and beloved father is no longer visible among them, 
will look up, and, smiling through their tears, thank 
God that the dear one has reached his home, at last, 
and met their sainted mother, to part from her no more 
forever ; that they will rove together amid trees which 
never fade, and bow together in the enjoyment of the 
most perfect felicity in the presence of God and the 
Lamb. 

" And I heard a voice from heaven saying unto me, 
write, Blessed are the dead who die in the Lord ; yea 
saith the Spirit, that they may rest from their labors, 
and their works do follow them." And now, beloved, 
what shall we say ? The memory of the just is blessed. 
Let us embalm, in our hearts, the memory of our ven- 
erable friend and brother and father, whom we shall 
see no more till the resurrection of the just, and let 
it the better prepare us, by God's grace, when He 
shall call, to fall asleep in Jesus. Amen. 









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